Malta had seen the second dog, and she knew she must get rid of the mastiff.

With an agile bound she sprang on his back, dug her sharp claws in, till he put his tail between his legs and ran up the street, howling with palm She rode a little way, then sprang off, and ran up the lane to the stable.
I was very angry and wanted to fight something so I pitched into the Spitz dog.

He was a snarly, cross-grained creature, no friend to Jim and me, and he would have been only too glad of a chance to help kill Malta.
I gave him one of the worst beatings he ever had.

I don't suppose it was quite right for me to do it, for Miss Laura says dogs should never fight; but he had worried Malta before, and he had no business to do it.
She belonged to our family.

Jim and I never worried his cat.